Heir to the Shadows (The Black Jewels #2)(119)
Author: Anne Bishop

But as the wounded mares and foals had been led to this side of the landing hill, the surviving stallions had become more and more upset.

"Ladvarian might know," Lucivar said, sipping his coffee. He sent out a quiet summons. A few minutes later, the Sceltie trotted wearily into the camp.

"Moonshadow’s missing," Ladvarian said when Lucivar asked him. "Starcloud was getting old. Moonshadow was going to be the next Queen. She wears an Opal Jewel. One of the mares said she saw humans throw ropes and nets around Moonshadow, but she didn’t see where they went." Lucivar closed his eyes. From what he could tell, all of the Blood males who had invaded Sceval had worn lighter Jewels, but enough of them with spelled nets and ropes. could control an Opal-Jeweled Queen. Were the spelled nets preventing her from calling to the others, or had she been taken off the island altogether?

"I’ll be back before twilight," he said, handing the cup to Khary.

"Watch your back," Khary said softly. "Just in case."

Lucivar flew north. As he flew, he kept sending the same message: He served the Lady. The Lady was at a camp near the landing hill. Healers were with the Lady.

He saw a few small herds of unicorns, who ran for the trees as best they could as soon as they sensed him.

He saw a lot of still, white bodies.

He saw even more exploded human corpses, and thanked the Darkness that Jaenelle had somehow kept her rage confined to this island.

And he wondered about the pockets of power he kept sensing as he flew over woods and clearings. Some were faint; others much stronger. He was turning away from an especially strong one that was in the trees to his left when something grabbed him. Something angry and desperate.

Using his Birthright Red, he broke the contact, but it took effort.

"You serve the Lady," said a harsh male voice.

Lucivar hovered, breathing hard. "I serve the Lady," he agreed cautiously. "Do you need help?"

"Sheneeds help."

Landing, he allowed the power to guide him through the trees until he reached its source. In a hollow, a mare lay tangled in nets and ropes, breathing hard and sweating.

"Ah, sweetheart," Lucivar said softly.

While most of the unicorns were some shade of white, there were a few rare dappled grays. This mare was a pale pewter with a white mane and tail. An Opal Jewel hung from a silver ring around her horn.

She was not only a Queen, she was also a Black Widow. The only combination that was rarer was the Queen/Black Widow/Healer. He never heard of a witch like that when he’d lived in Terreille. In Kaeleer, there were only three— Karla, Gabrielle, and Jaenelle.

Standing very still, Lucivar slowly spread his dark, membranous wings. He’d heard enough disparaging remarks about "human bats" in his life to recognize the advantage. his wings might give him now. Wings, like hooves and fur, were usually part of the kindred’s domain.

"Lady Moonshadow," he said, keeping his voice low and soothing, "I am Prince Lucivar Yaslana. I serve the Lady. I’d like to help you."

She didn’t reply, but the panic in her eyes gradually receded.

He walked toward her, gritting his teeth as the male power surrounding her swelled, then ebbed.

"Easy, sweetheart," he said, crouching beside her. "Easy."

Her panic spiked when his hand touched her withers.

Lucivar swore silently as he cut the nets and ropes. They’d tried to break her, tried to shatter her inner web. The only difference between what the Terreillean bastards had tried to do to her and what they usually did to human witches was physical rape. Maybe that’s why they hadn’t succeeded before Jaenelle had unleashed the Black. They hadn’t been able to use their best weapon.

"There now," Lucivar said as he tossed the last of the ropes away. "Come on, sweetheart. On your feet. Easy now."

Step by step, he coaxed her out of the trees and into the clearing. Her fear increased with every step she took away from that power-filled hollow. He needed to get her to the camp before her fear finished what those bastards had started. A radial line from the Rose Wind was close enough to catch, and he could certainly guide and shield her for the short trip, but how to convince her to trust him that much?

"Mistral’s going to be very glad to see you," he said casually.

"Mistral?" Her head swung around. He dodged the horn before it impaled him. "He is well?"

"He’s at the camp with the Lady. If we ride the Rose Wind, we’ll get there before twilight."

Pain and sorrow filled her thoughts. "The lost ones must be sung to the land at twilight."

Lucivar suppressed a shiver. Suddenly he very much wanted to be back in the camp. "Shall we go, Lady?"

Everyone had returned to the camp, physically weary and heartsore.

Everyone except Lucivar.

As he drank the restorative brew Karla had made for him, Saetan tried not to worry. Lucivar could take care of himself; he was a strong, fit, well-trained warrior; he knew his limitations, especially after extending himself so much today; he wouldn’t do anything foolish like try to take on a gang of Blood-Jeweled males alone just because he was pissed about the kindred deaths.

And tomorrow the sun would rise in the west.

"He’s fine," Jaenelle said quietly as she settled next to him on one of the logs the boys had dragged from somewhere to provide seats around the fire. Tucking the spell-warmed blanket around herself, she smiled ruefully. "The Ring’ssupposed to let me monitorhis spikes of temper. I hadn’t realized I’d messed up somewhere when I created it until Karla, Morghann, Grezande,and Gabrielle bitched about my setting a bad precedent since all the boyos want a Ring that works like that." Her voice took on a hint of whine. "I always thought it was just extraordinary intuition that he always showed up whenever I felt grumpy.He certainly never hinted it was anything more than that."

"He’s not an idiot, witch-child," Saetan replied, sipping his brew to hide his smile.

"That’s debatable. But why did he have to go and tell the others?"

He understood why the Queens were annoyed. The foundation of any official court was twelve males and a Queen. Through the Ring of Honor, a Queen could monitor every nuance of a male’s life. But because the Queens respected the privacy of the males who served them and because no woman in her right mind would want to keep track of the emotional currents of that many men, they usually adjusted their monitoring to block out everything but things like fear, rage, and pain—the kinds of feelings that indicated the wearer needed help.

Each man, however, only had to keep track of one Queen.